Downtime
by Obi the Kid
Summary: A series of short stories about how Sam and Dean spend their downtime. First stories will take place in Season 8, but I hope to branch into previous seasons as well.
1. Downtime

**Series and Chapter Title:** Downtime

**Author:** Obi the Kid

**Rating:** PG

**Chapter Summary:** (Season 8) The boys figure out the next step after the events in "Torn and Frayed". Tag to that episode.

**Series Summary:** A series of short stories about how Sam and Dean spend their downtime. First stories will take place in Season 8, but I hope to branch into previous seasons as well.

***Any typos/grammatical errors are my own. Please forgive them**.

* * *

The fight was over. Huh. Guess you could read that two ways, right?

I _meant_ the fight on TV. The boxing match Sam and I had become entrenched in as we downed some borderline still-in-date canned chili and a couple cold beers. That other fight was also over though; our most recent fray into discontentment. It's what Sam and I did, ever since he was old enough to make his own decisions. Somehow we kept cramming ourselves into crap that did it's best to rip us apart, in more ways than one. We always brought it back though. We always found the other again. Thirty years together, an aside from a few times when Hell or Purgatory got in the way, Sammy and I were there saving each other's bacon and driving each other nuts 24/7.

I shoulda come clean with him about Benny. He should have looked for me in Purgatory. That's what did it this time. Thankfully, yet again, we were smart enough to eventually see the stupidity of our ways. And now, here we were. Housed up in Rufus' old cabin, watching bad boxing on a tiny TV, eating crap canned chili and hell...well, at least we had cold beer.

The fight was over. The drama done. We were in downtime. Something we needed to get our feet back under us and our relationship as brothers – rather than hunters - reassured.

It was late and we were coming off one of the most emotionally confusing days we'd seen in a long damn time. I was tired and knew I'd sleep through anything tonight. As Sam stacked the bowls in the sink and I saw the fatigue in the position of his shoulders, I made the offer.

"You take the bedroom, Sam. I'll crash on the couch tonight."

There wasn't much space in the rickety cabin, but the bed was ten times more comfortable than the old cruddy couch.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, man. You're too long for the damn couch anyway."

"Thanks. Hey, what's the plan for tomorrow? Take a ride to check on Kevin?"

I thought about that. We could. But Kevin would have called if he'd gotten anything. No point in wasting the time and gas for nothing. And as I said before, we could use a little downtime.

"Nah. The kid's okay. We need a couple days."

"You wanna just sit around the cabin for a couple days, Dean? You'll be bored out of your mind."

True. "True. We'll figure something out. There's gotta be something to do in town. Maybe hustle up some pool. We could use the cash. Do a little sightseeing maybe?"

"In Whitefish, Montana?"

"Well, yeah. There's mountains and water and grass and hills and stuff. Come on, Sam, work with me here! We can find something to do that doesn't require the use of firearms, Latin, salt or running for our lives. Hell, we can just drive into a field or something and watch the stars like we used to do. Downtime. Remember downtime? You and me, doing nothing that required us to bleed?"

"I remember it, I just can't think of when's the last time we actually had it."

"Fishing. How about fishing?"

"We have no fishing poles, Dean."

"There's a sporting goods place in town. We could get a couple cheap poles and find a decent lake and just do a damn bit of nothing for the next two days."

Sam stared at me, as I expected. I just couldn't tell if he was thinking I was being serious, or just being an idiot. I was making the effort though and eventually he recognized it.

"Yeah, okay. Fishing. We'll do that. Bobby told me once about a lake nearby. Downtime. I think it's a good idea, Dean."

Part of me thought Sam would reject the offer and start case shopping; finding something evil to hunt if for no other reason than to take out his stress and discontent on an object that really deserved it. Mercifully, that part of me thought wrong.

"Good. Tomorrow then. We'll head out early. Ah, but not too early."

"What's not too early, Dean?"

"Well, you know - anything before 11 am."

My little brother laughed at me. I smiled back. Felt good. The two of us together again. Strong again. Brothers again.

"Whatever, man. G'night."

I kept smiling; a smile that broadened as I said, "Night, Sam. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Really, Dean?"

"What? You remember that. It's Bobby's fault. When Dad dropped us off with him, every night before bed, he'd say it. I didn't know what the hell a bed bug was! For all I knew they were the size of New York City rats with teeth the size of Great Whites."

"Dean."

"Okay, maybe not rats or Great Whites, but you get my point, damn it. Just, don't let them bite. No idea what's been hanging around in this cabin when we're not here."

"Dean!"

I had him now, working my big brother magic. Driving Sammy nuts and…one more push and... Yup, empty beer can flying at my head. I ducked. It missed.

"Ha! Little off on that aim there, boy! Gotta…Ouch! Damn it!" The second one didn't miss. "Lucky shot."

"Sure it was. I'm going to bed."

I grabbed Sam's attention one last time before he disappeared into the back room.

"Hey, Sammy?"

He turned back toward me, the anger and bitterness from the last few days and months now vanished from both our faces.

"Yeah?"

"I missed ya, little brother."

I got then what I'd been after since we'd started on that chili. A genuine Sam smile.

"Yeah. Me too, Dean."

"Tomorrow. 11 am. Downtime. Got it?"

"I'll be there. Night."

"Night, Sam."

Two days later, we were fishless, had been eaten alive by goat-sized mosquitoes and had gotten stuck knee deep in the mud, not once but four times. We smelled like…nasty.

But our first foray, since forever, into a bit of downtime? Success!

* * *

The End.


	2. Joe Dirt

**Chapter Title:** Joe Dirt

**Series Title:** Downtime

**Author:** Obi the Kid

**Rating:** PG

**Chapter Summary:** (Supernatural – Season 8). The boys hit a yard sale. And a mullet brings peace to the Winchester's world.

**Series Summary:** A series of short stories about how the boys spend downtime. First stories will take place in Season 8, but I hope to branch into previous seasons as well.

* * *

"A yard sale, Dean? Seriously?"

"What? We have a friggin' free minute of downtime. Do we ever get that anymore? No. And besides, man, you dragged me through that organic farmer's market months ago. Consider this payback. Shut up and browse."

"Dean, we don't need other people's crap."

"Sam, we have a home now. For the first time since I was four. And if you can't fill up your home with crap, what good is it? And would you look at this! DVD's _and_ a DVD player. We could use one of those. Do a movie night or something…when we're not out saving the planet of course."

"Of course."

Dean began browsing through the collection of movies. A silly smile lit his face when he got his hands on the first one.

The protest from Sam was immediate. "No, absolutely not. I am notin any way, shape or form, watching _Joe Dirt_ with you. Put it back, Dean."

"Come on, Sammy! Its two bucks! You can't beat two bucks. And it's a classic!"

"Yeah, a classic piece of…"

"You…can be such a grumpy bastard."

Dean grabbed another DVD. "Okay here. _Airplane!_ Even you can't deny the comedic genius of this one. _'Surely, you can't be serious. I am serious, and don't call me Shirley.'_ Ha! Damn, that's good stuff."

Grabbing the movie from Dean's hand, Sam made a face and nodded. "Okay, I'll give you that one. I won't feel like taking a shower afterwards, or hiding my head in the sand."

Dean snatched the movie back.

The back and forth continued until the boys were interrupted by the woman running the sale. "Mornin' guys. I'll make you a good deal if you're interested in a bunch of the movies."

Dean smiled. Sam whacked him in the shoulder.

"Dean, no."

"Shut up, Sam. What kinda deal we talking here? Say I wanted all the DVD's and the player too?"

"Dean!"

"Sam, please. Go play in the book section. Maybe you can get a deal on some Nancy Drew novels."

The woman laughed as Dean ducked a swat to the head. "You two sound like my sons. Always pecking at each other. Related?"

"Brothers. Sometimes I do wonder though," Dean responded, smirking in Sam's direction as the younger Winchester headed towards the car. "Anyway, you were talkin' deal?"

"You got at least 100 DVD's and one player. I'll give you the bundle for $200."

Not thinking twice, Dean snagged it and yanked out a packet of twenty dollar bills, counting out eight of them. "Deal."

Moments later, with arms full, Dean popped the trunk of the Impala and carefully tossed his collection inside. He found Sam sitting in the passenger seat, leafing through a giant and probably death-defyingly boring book.

"Whatcha reading, Sammy?"

"Something that won't rot my brain. The neighbor is having a sale as well. I managed to leave without buying a trunk load though."

"What's the fun in that?"

The Impala thundered to life and started slowly down the street.

"Okay, movie night tonight, baby! Whoo!"

"Dean, you bought old DVD's. You didn't find the Holy Grail."

"Depends on your point of view."

"And we are not watching _Joe Dirt_."

"You have something against a man and his mullet?"

"Not usually, but…no."

"You really are grumpy today. Sheesh. What's wrong with you?"

The book thumped down next to Sam's as he slumped into the familiar bench seat of the Impala. "Just tired."

"Heh. I figured as much. I heard you wandering around last night. How about we watch a nice boring movie then, and you can sleep during it?"

"Why would I sleep on a 70 year old couch when I have a bed to sleep on?"

"And the bed is how old? Uh uh. And why? Because after a long and unwelcomed hiatus, Winchester Movie Night is back! Me and you, little brother. Just like we did when were kids and Dad was gone, we'd manage to sneak out of those putrid hotel rooms if there was a theater nearby. It was what, once every couple months or so we scrounge up enough money to check out a flick? Those were good days, Sammy. Again, depending on one's point of view. And now that we have an actual home…"

Sam held up a hand, "I get it, Dean. I do. Fine, we'll do movie night. Just anything but…"

"I know, I know. No _Joe Dirt_."

"Thank you."

"You pick it then. One rule though, no chick-flicks."

"Dean, I don't watch chick-flicks."

"Whatever, dude. You so do. I'll admit to mullet-humor if you'll admit to

Chick-flicks."

"Given the choice between the two…"

"Mullet-humor!"

"Chick-flick."

"Bastard!"

Sam smiled at the name and puffed out a small laugh.

"It'll be good for you, Sammy. Good for us."

It would. They'd had a rocky few months after Dean had returned from Purgatory, but things had worked themselves out, as they tended to do with the brothers. Whatever separated them never lasted for long. And if movie night was the final thread to make them whole again, Sam figured that was okay. Even if it meant suffering through an excruciatingly painful ninety minutes of _Joe Dirt_. Because no matter what they'd just agreed on, Sam knew his brother. And he knew that on this very evening, they'd be on that ancient couch in their bunker – their home – watching the mullet-headed moron named…Joe Dirt. And that was okay too.

It was even okay that Sam found himself laughing at the stupidity on the screen in front of them. He hadn't meant to, but Dean started it and laughter always had been contagious, especially when his big brother took such joy in those fleeting times when they actually _could_ laugh about something.

Huh, Sam thought. Maybe _Joe Dirt_ wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

The End.


	3. LARP and the Good Day

**Chapter Title:** LARP and the Good Day

**Series Title:** Downtime

**Author:** Obi the Kid

**Rating:** PG

**Chapter Summary:** (Season 8). Sam POV. The boys find that elusive perfect ending to an almost perfect day. Tag to "LARP and the Real Girl."

**Series Summary:** A series of short stories about how the boys spend downtime. First stories will take place in Season 8, but I hope to branch into previous seasons as well.

* * *

"That was so friggin' awesome, Sammy! Well, except for the red paint up my nose. Stuff burns like a mother!"

"And mud."

"Man, I've got mud where no mud has gone before. That fall was awesome though, wasn't it? Turn and BAM! Okay, a bit embarrassing, but fun as hell. Now_ that_ is some good quality downtime!"

I pulled the paper wrapping off the bacon cheeseburger from our takeout bag and handed it to Dean behind the wheel, then unwrapped my own and tore off a bite.

"And then polish off the day with a bun full of bacon, cheese and beef and heading out on the road with my Baby and my little brother. Pretty damned good day."

And there it was. That look. Every so often, Dean had this energetic quality about him that would come with this contagious childlike smile that lit up his entire face. Not sure how he did it with all we've been through, but on him, it always seemed the most natural thing in the world. And, I admit, it always had me grinning back.

I remarked to him then, "Nice job on the Braveheart speech by the way."

"Yeah, well, it's the only one I know."

I coughed a laugh, trying not to choke on my food as I flashed back a few hours. That was when I'd told Charlie the same exact thing during Dean's delivery of said speech in front of those he had named as his official minions. Funny. Dean had always wanted his own minions. A dream realized today, I suppose.

"I think they expect us back for the next battle, you know."

"I could do that. Well, as long as we're not chin deep in saving the world or some ridiculous thing like that. I think…you had fun, didn't you, Sam? Please tell me you had fun. If you didn't have fun with _that_, I'm outta ideas, man."

"It was fun. I never thought something like that would be…well, honestly, I've never thought of _doing_ anything like that, and I never in my mind imagined _you_ instigating it, but yeah, it felt good to escape from reality for a while."

We didn't get many opportunities as hunters and Winchesters to goof off. It really had felt good. Felt great actually. Another bite down and I changed the subject. "I guess we head back to the hotel now?"

Dean grunted an agreement as we polished off our burgers, fries and sodas and that's when he slammed down - two-footed - on the breaks. I caught my soda just before it exploded against the dash.

"Hold that question, Sam. No hotel for us. Not yet. See that sign?"

I glanced to ahead to where I thought he was pointing.

"Wax yourself free of bikini hair?"

"What? No, you jerk, the other one."

"Brake for Billy Bob's Barbeque?"

I smirked.

"Sam," he said reprovingly, giving me his trademark, 'my little brother is such a moron' face.

I kept on.

"Bounce your way to a thinner you? Is that even possible on a trampoline?"

I managed a straight face.

"Damn it, Sam!"

Finally, I relented before he ended up tossing head whacks in my direction.

"Oh, wait…movie drive in. They still have those things?"

"And the movie is?"

"Ha. No way, man."

"Yes way. Dude, we are so there. Braveheart on the friggin' gigantic outdoor screen and we don't even have to leave the comfort of the Impala. And if you get popcorn butter all over the seats, man, I will kick your ass."

"Can we at least grab a shower first at the hotel? You might have mud in odd places, but I think I ingested some of that hair gel that Charlie slathered on my head."

"Tamed the mop though, didn't it, hair boy?"

"Stop bullying my hair, Dean and start the damn car. Movie starts at seven."

Dean had said earlier that the burgers and fries and chucking down the road with his little brother was a good way to close the first fun day we'd had in forever. I think I'd found a better way. Hanging out with my big brother in the Impala, in front of a giant outdoor movie screen, watching a great flick and taking bets on who could eat the most Hot Tamales without taking a drink.

Huh. Yeah, that was a pretty cool way to end a good day.

In our world, it was damned near perfect day.

"…but they can never take our FREEDOM!" Dean shouted next to me (pounding me on the shoulder as he did) at the exact moment that a blue-faced Mel Gibson announced the same on the screen.

I hadn't spent much time smiling in recent months – or years – but I did so now. Couldn't help it really. Not this time. Not with Dean's full- on, open-mouthed, ten-year-old-little-boy-laugh pointed in my direction.

Yeah, this was good. Real good. And now it was official. We'd just had the most perfect ending to any day in Winchester family history.

* * *

The end.


End file.
